


Late Night Double Feature

by darkandstormyslash



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Book Ramsay Bolton, Corsetry, Crossdressing, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fucked Up Relationship, M/M, Non-Consensual Groping, Psychological Manipulation, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, cracked/broken rib, difficulty breathing, mention of feet crushing, tight lacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24438295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkandstormyslash/pseuds/darkandstormyslash
Summary: Theon wants to do a Rocky Horror night. Ramsay wants to help him. Ramsay is not nice.From a kinkmeme prompt by @Morgelyn requesting broken ribs and optional tight-lacing
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy
Comments: 18
Kudos: 48
Collections: Thramsay2020 Kinkmeme Event





	1. Ramsay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morgelyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgelyn/gifts).



> This is a modern day AU of book!Ramsay and movie!Theon, fairly early on in their relationship.

The scream Theon makes is so sharp, so loud and so sudden that it makes Ramsay pause. They’ve spent enough time together over the last few months that he can now tell when Theon is simply complaining and when he’s in genuine pain. For most of the process of getting the corset on, Theon has been grumbling and whinging, but this is different. It’s a shriek of bright flashing pain which indicates something has gone terribly wrong. 

Unbidden, Theon lurches forward against the stays, hands rising to clutch around his ribs, “Fuck! Rams - stop!”

The corset laces are still wrapped around Ramsay’s thick fingers, pulled taught. Ramsay gives them an experimental little tug, watching with interest as Theon’s face goes white, “Quit being a baby. You wanted tight-laced.”

“I think - fuck - I think something just - oh god it hurts.” Theon gasps out, hands clutching at the supple leather which grips him tightly. “Fucking loosen it.”

“We’re almost there.” Ramsay leans forward, dropping his head down onto Theon’s shoulder and feeling the sweat slick against his face. His fingers tighten around the laces and give a hard sudden tug. Theon screams again, scrabbling at the leather.

“Shit!”

“You gotta suffer for beauty, baby.”

“Get off me you - fuck…” Theon flails but he’s not strong enough to shift the entire bulk of Ramsay’s body leaning against him. Or the hard pressure of the corset bearing down against his chest, which almost looks like it’s tightening with every breath. “W-why do you always do this?”

“Do what?” Ramsay ties the laces down, firm and tight. The corset is reinforced with underwire, Ramsay knows because he had it made specially. Inside it Theon looks damaged, skinny and helpless. It’s such a turn on, and Ramsay rubs his crotch hard against the trembling body in front of him. “You mean like how I agreed to go to this dumb Rocky Horror thing with you? Even though none of your so-called friends would? Or how I helped to find you the perfect costume? And took the time out of my day to get you ready?”

There are tears leaking out of the corner of Theon’s eyes. Ramsay moves so he can lick them away. The broad length of his tongue presses against Theon’s cheek, feeling the edges of his bones, the startling thinness of his skin. “You always have to make it hurt.” Theon whispers.

“It’s a corset.” Ramsay says flatly. Large broad hands flatten over the slides of Theon’s waist, rubbing gently up and down the sides. “What did you think it was going to feel like.”

“I think I’ve broken a rib.” Theon gasps.

Ramsay thinks so too, and the idea delights him. No point in coddling his little brat though, so he aims a flick at Theon’s ear. “Don’t be stupid. It’s just a corset.”

“It really hurts.” Theon whimpers.

Ramsay grabs his Meatloaf jacket and shrugs it over his shoulders, then places his hands back on Theon’s waist. He’s obsessed with the narrowness of it, how his own strength has physically changed the shape of Theon’s body. It feels like he can mould Theon, body and mind, into the kind of person he wants. “Well you look fucking great.”

A small weak smile tugs at the edges of Theon’s mouth. It’s so different from his usual smirk and it makes something inside Ramsay flutter. “You think so?”

“Yeah.” Ramsay rubs his cock against Theon’s back again. Theon squirms, but another advantage of the corset is that Theon can’t easily move in it. Ramsay is enchanted. He knew the corset would be a good idea, but there are possibilities opening up he hadn’t even considered. His hands tighten around Theon’s waist, lifting slightly so he can rub his now hard cock against the curves of Theon’s ass. It’s so visible and available in only a tiny pair of black silk panties.

“R-rams, wait…” Theon pants, “I can’t … loosen it if we’re going to … fuck!”

A large unforgiving palm rubs and squeezes at the silk-covered cock, teasing it mercilessly. Theon’s breath is shallow, face twisted in pain, the tears still drying on his cheeks. The next corset he buys, Ramsay decides, will have cute little padlocks on the back so Theon is even more helplessly trapped within it.

Beneath him, Theon’s legs twitch and scrabble for purchase. Unable to stop himself, Ramsay grabs Theon by the waist and physically flings him down over his bed. The black silk panties are ripped down, Ramsay’s cock is inside, and Theon doesn’t even have enough breath to properly scream.

“You are so damn sexy like this…” Ramsay growls into Theon’s ear, reveling in the heat which is even tighter than usual. “Come on baby, keep crying, that’s it.”

He helps Theon into a sitting position afterwards, and even finds some tissues to mop him up where he’s leaking at both ends. Cum, tears and blood, the sexy cocktail Ramsay is getting dangerously addicted to. A quick double shot of vodka and Theon is even able to sit up by himself, the tears turned to pouts, his hand still grasping at the corset. It keeps grabbing at his left side, Ramsay realizes, which means something probably has cracked or broken in there. 

“You’re such a brute.” Theon grumbles, his voice breathy and pained. “I’m serious Rams, you can’t keep doing that.”

“You love it.” Ramsay nuzzles at his ear and pours him another little vodka shot. It’s going to be a long evening, and he wants Theon to be upright and conscious for all of it. The thought of Theon surrounded by oblivious crowds, constantly in pain and struggling to breath, greatly appeals to him. Carefully, Ramsay picks up the large wedge heels and slips them onto Theon’s feet. They fit, which is almost upsetting. Next time, Ramsay thinks he should get smaller ones to really crush Theon’s feet into them.

Slowly Theon stands, teetering on the unfamiliar shoes. “Fuck Rams, I’m not sure I can do this.”

“You were the one who wanted to go.”

“Yeah I know but … my ribs fucking hurt and I can’t walk.”

Ramsay wraps an arm around Theon’s waist, encouraging him forwards. “Just try it baby, get used to it.”

Trussed up like this, Theon needs Ramsay for even the most basic movements. It almost scares Ramsay how much that thought has him panting. The more vulnerable Theon is, the more vulnerable Ramsay wants to make him. Tonight, separated from his friends, physically broken and struggling to walk, Ramsay almost feels a little in love. He wants more of this,  _ needs _ more of this, to break Theon Greyjoy down into a helpless pained little shadow. He wonders if there's some way to keep Theon like this for even longer, in continual discomfort and dependent on Ramsay.

“Also my ass hurts.” Theon grumbles.

Ramsay’s lips spread into a wide smile, “Well you  _ definitely _ should be used to that by now.”


	2. Theon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Further triggers for injury, pain, psychological manipulation, spanking, sad!Theon, and dubcon so dub it's noncon

Theon knows, somewhere deep inside him, that Ramsay isn’t good for him. If he were sensible, if he were a normal sane person instead of a disastrous fuckup, he would stay with Robb Stark. Sensible, safe, little Robbie, who always does as he’s told and gets good grades and doesn’t, e.g., practically break Theon’s ribs before fucking him hard and pushing him out into a crowd in heels he can barely stand up in. 

He knows Ramsay is bad for him, but it’s in the same way he knows drinking is bad for him, and sleeping with girls who probably have the clap is bad for him. It doesn’t stop him doing it. Hanging out with Ramsay comes with a small sparking thrill, the knowledge that what he’s doing is really fucking wrong and incredibly fucking stupid. It’s hard to feel that thrill though, when he can barely breath and almost certainly can’t stand up.

Fuck but he  _ hurts _ .

He keeps one hand on the side of his corset as they stumble into the crowd, which is spilling out from the plaza where the screen is set up and into the surrounding streets. Everyone here is dressed similarly, in leather and lace, silk and sparkles. You wouldn’t catch Robbie Stark in a place like this, which is why Theon has to go with Ramsay. For a moment, he almost feels  _ annoyed _ at Robb, even though it’s hardly Robb’s fault because Theon didn’t even ask him. He tries to imagine what this would be like with Robb, the two of them giggling in drag and singing along, and finds that he can’t. It’s too strange, too alien, and also maybe too depressing to think about. 

“You want another drink, babe?” Ramsay murmurs in his ear. 

Theon desperately wants another drink, but if Ramsay moves away from him, he’ll fall over. He tries a step by himself and staggers like a baby colt, hands grabbing and clutching at Ramsay as he falls, “Yeah just … take me with you.”

The smile he gets in return is predatory, a wide gaping split full of sharp teeth.

Slowly, Theon is manoeuvred in the direction of one of the pop-up bars. Behind him, he can hear the strains of the overture as the screen flickers into life. The crowd starts flowing towards it, which at least means there are fewer people queuing for drinks. Theon knows there’s no way he can sing, let alone dance. It hurts to breath, his ass is raw and bruised inside, his legs are screaming from tottering in heels. He feels tears of frustration well up in his eyes - why does Ramsay always have to ruin everything? Would it be too much to have one thing they can do together that doesn’t leave Theon hurting, or terrified, or both?

“Hey…” The thick pad of Ramsay’s thumb rubs along under his eye, collecting the tears. “What’s the matter?”

“It - it just hurts…” Theon gasps. 

They’ve made it to the bar, and Ramsay is holding out a little shot of something fluorescent green. Theon opens his mouth gratefully and Ramsay tips the harsh liquid inside. “I know it hurts, baby, but you look so beautiful.”

Theon manages a wan smile.

“You don’t have to join in the singing or dancing, just enjoy the experience, enjoy the night, hmm?” Ramsay’s hands slip around his waist, resting on the tight-laced corset. “I’m gonna fuck you again when we get home, babe.”

“N-no…” Theon manages to gasp out. Ramsay is always rough. It’s hard enough to take in normal circumstances, but at the moment he feels like any more of Ramsay’s cock will rip him in two. 

Ramsay laughs, and rubs some more tears out from under his eyes, holding up a second shot. “Okay baby, ask nicely. I know your ass is sore, so you’re gonna want to be pretty drunk for round two, yeah?”

Theon is very tempted to reach up and knock the shot out of Ramsay’s hands. But if he does that, he knows the resulting momentum will have him tumbling over onto the floor. The thought of trying to stand back up without Ramsay, trying to move without Ramsay, trying to get home … he shudders. Besides which Ramsay is right, he does want to be drunk. 

He’s not quite ready to beg though. “Fuck off and give me the shot.”

There’s a quiet deliberateness with which Ramsay puts the shot glass back down onto the bar. One hand wraps around Theon’s body to hold him in place and Theon knows, suddenly what’s going to happen. He squirms and struggles, and finally buries his face into Ramsay’s shoulder as the hard broad hand slams down repeatedly against his ass. It muffles most of his cries, which aren’t massively loud anyway because it hurts to  _ breath _ .

The barman is wearing a sparkly golden jacket and a little red top hat. He laughs as he watches, and pours out another shot for them both. “Damn, you guys are into this pretty deep huh?”

Ramsay’s hand rubs against the red irritated skin, clearly visible given Theon is wearing nothing but a scrap of silk over his ass. “Oh yeah, he’s in deep.”

“On the house then.” The two additional shots are pushed over and the barman gives Theon a little nod, “You okay with this, hot-stuff?”

It’s very comforting buried in the sweaty heat of Ramsay’s leather jacket. Theon whimpers, giving a small squeak.

“What do you say?” Ramsay says gently, stroking his hair. It always amazes Theon that Ramsay  _ can _ be gentle. Those times are few and far between and seem to be getting even more scarce. Nowadays, Ramsay doesn’t need to be so sweet. You catch more flies with honey, but you don’t give them honey once they’re caught. 

“‘Nk you…” he mutters into Ramsay’s jacket. 

“Come on baby, behave.” There’s a warning swat against his thigh.

Theon manages a deep shuddering breath, the pain more than worth it for the oxygen. He gives the barman a watery smile. “I’m fine, man. Really. Thanks for the drinks.”

Ramsay lifts the shot-glass up, holding it in front of Theon’s face. They have an audience now and it feels a bit more like a game. Theon pouts and wriggles, one hand reaching back to rub the sore sting at his ass. “Please Rams, please can I have a shot, I’ll be good Rams I promise, just let me have a drink…”

The liquid burns all the way down his throat. He gasps, grabs his waist, splutters and sobs. The barman gives another laugh and moves away to serve the next couple waiting, a broad-shouldered woman leading a pretty girlfriend by a leash. Theon can see some marks on the back of her thigh and he thinks  _ cane _ .

One of Ramsay’s hands presses against the tender ache at his waist. The pressure helps Theon stagger back towards the crowd, who are laughing and singing along. Ramsay moves behind him, letting Theon rest against the bulk of his body to take some of the pressure off his aching feet.

“Your jeans are rubbing into my ass.” Theon whimpers, because it still stings, dammit.

Ramsay licks around his ear. “I know.”

Theon can’t remember how long the show is. He doesn’t really want to have to stand out here for the whole thing. On the other hand he  _ definitely  _ doesn’t want to go back home and have his sore asshole pummeled into again. Wearily, he leans against Ramsay’s body, letting it take his weight, getting into the rhythm of shallow breath and a slow heartbeat. 

“You’re my bitch, aren’t you?” Ramsay murmurs into his ear.

“Yeah.” Theon murmurs back, because he hurts too much to disagree, “I’m your bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discord made me do it


End file.
